


Blue Skies From Pain

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Series: The Older Brother Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Comfort/Angst, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Family, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Non-Consensual Spanking, POV Original Character, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Series, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Punishment, Spanking, Teen Dean Winchester, Teenchesters, Weechesters, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: Dean was sitting in the back seat like he had for most of the day, quietly staring out the window, hardly moving in his seat. It wasn't uncommon for him to be docile after taking an ass beating as bad as he did last night, but Connor still didn't care for it, not one bit.





	Blue Skies From Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Non-consensual spanking of a minor and some language - if either triggers you, please don't read.
> 
> I strongly recommend you read [Beneath Your Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178313) before reading this story, as it will introduce you to this AU.
> 
> Thank you to my precious betas [CrazedPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda), [ToscaRossetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti) and [alexofthegarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexofthegarden/pseuds/alexofthegarden) \- they write lovely, lovely stories, but you needn't take my word for it, go see for yourselves :)

The sky was clouded, but not too heavily, and every once in a while the lowering sun peeked through, throwing its rays straight into Connor's eyes. The next time it did, he shifted his eyes into the side view mirror – again – to look at Dean.

The kid was sitting like he had for most of the day, quietly staring out the window, hardly moving in his seat. It wasn't uncommon for him to be docile after taking an ass beating as bad as he did last night, but Connor still didn't care for it, not one bit.

Not that Dean hadn't deserved to have his ass whipped with the way his mouth had been running all over the place, but Dad had come down on him harder than usual. And today they had spent the entire day driving, not even stopping for lunch, instead settling for some drive-through junk consumed on the move. Dean had only eaten half his cheeseburger and some fries.

Dean had just nodded his head when Connor asked him if he was okay, and shook it when asked if he wanted some Tylenol, or to lie down, or to stop for a break. Connor didn't expect him to agree to any of it; even at fourteen Dean was already striving to prove he was tough and manly and able to handle anything, but Connor had hoped at the very least to see Dean flash him a disarming grin in response. The grin never showed.

The sun hid behind the next cloud and Connor glanced over at Dad. He was staring straight forward, narrowed eyes making the lines around them deepen, lips pressed together. He wasn't exactly grabbing the steering wheel, but he wasn't holding it in his usual caring touch, either.

Dad had scared him last night, a little. Sure, Connor knew those moods Dad had sometimes, and arriving late to find a family of five already butchered by the rawhead he was after hadn't done him much good. he bottle he would normally be nursing had been drained at an alarming speed, but he hadn't even come close to getting as drunk as he had probably wanted.

Dean could usually pick up on those signs and steer clear of Dad; that he hadn't only proved that his own temper was getting the best of him. The strap coming out was inevitable, if sooner than expected. Sammy hadn't even had time to try for the bathroom when the loud sounds of leather on flesh started to dominate the suffocating air of the motel room.

Connor had sat down next to his frozen baby brother on the couch and pulled him into his lap, and Sammy hid his face against Connor's chest and grabbed his shirt with shaky little hands.

Connor glanced at Sam now; he was also sitting quietly with a book in his lap. Sam had tried talking to Dean a few times during the day, and although Dean didn't outright shut him out, he responded with short, often one-syllable replies, and Sam had eventually given up.

The road they were following had no interesting sights to offer, just fields that went on and on, dotted with trees and an occasional cow or a barn. Connor found himself missing the way Dean would have been whining about being bored and asking Dad to turn the music up while he sang along. There was no music today.

The sun stung his eyes again, and Connor lowered them and peeked at Dean through the mirror, catching the way he grimaced as he shifted in his seat. It wasn't the first time – and probably wouldn't be the last – Dean had to spend a day of driving sitting on a welted ass, but there was something in his face that made Connor uncomfortable; it was too strained, too pale. Connor reached a decision.

"Dad, can you pull over?"

Dad slanted a glance at him. "We need to get-"

"Just for a couple minutes. Please."

Dad let out some air – not exactly a sigh, but close – and slowed down. He stopped the car by the side of the road, and Connor climbed out. He opened the back door and signaled Dean out, and the kid obeyed, grimacing again as he turned in his seat to swing his feet onto the gravel.

Connor nudged him to take a step away from the car so he could close the door, then looked into his face.

"You okay, buddy?"

He expected one of Dean's usual comebacks

 _You pulled the car over to ask me_ that _? Jeez, what a dumbass_

but the kid only nodded like he did before, and looked at Connor patiently.

"You hardly ate anything."

Dean shrugged. "Not hungry."

"Now how does that happen, huh?"

Dean shrugged again, ignoring Connor's lame attempt at a smile.

"You're being awfully quiet today."

"I'm behaving," there wasn't the slightest shred of sass or defiance in Dean's voice. He was just stating a fact.

Connor sighed. "Yeah, you are."

Dean had kept mostly quiet during the whipping last night, but Dad had been whaling on his ass like nobody's business, and even though he tried, Dean hadn't been able to stifle the sobs. When the sound of the lashing strap had finally stopped, Dean's hitched, shaky breaths were too loud, too disturbing.

Dad hadn't waited for Dean to compose himself. He yanked him off the bed by the arm and stood him upright.

"Get your pants up and park your ass in the corner," he said.

Dean reached immediately to pull his pants back over the skin that had turned the color of boiled lobster. He was waddling toward the closest corner even before getting them all the way up.

Dad had watched him as he fidgeted there for a minute longer, trying to straighten the rolled-up waistband of his boxers, and then strode over, grabbed Dean's arm and bent him a little as his other hand crashed down on Dean's ass. Dean cringed sharply and only barely managed to smother a yelp.

"You wanna go another round with the strap?!" Dad barked.

"Please no," it was a rushed, terrified breath, that made Connor almost wince.

"Then you fucking _do_ what you're _told_ ," Dad turned Dean into the corner, and the kid hurriedly got into a proper position, back straight, hands behind his back, toes touching the baseboard.

Dad had waited for a moment longer, but Dean hadn't budged, so Dad stalked back to the kitchenette and slumped down in a chair.

Connor had helped Sam get ready for bed – Sam was old enough to do it himself, but Connor could feel he was upset. Connor had glanced at Dean now and again, but his middle brother stood perfectly still; only by watching him closely did Connor notice his shoulders were trembling.

Dean was standing perfectly still now, too, watching Connor and waiting. Connor reached to rake his fingers through Dean's hair.

"Does it hurt?" He asked quietly.

The corners of Dean's mouth twitched and he blinked, but quickly got a hold of himself. "I'm fine."

"You can tell me if it does. It's okay," Connor said even more quietly. Dean held his gaze for a moment longer, and then dropped his eyes.

Dean had been standing in the corner for nearly half an hour when Dad said from the kitchenette, "Dean, hit the showers, I want you in bed in twenty."

Dean had sprinted into the bathroom, lamplight caught in the shimmering trails on his cheeks, and Connor tucked Sam into the sofa bed Connor usually took. When Dean climbed into bed, Connor was there waiting for him, even though he wasn't sure Dean would accept the comfort Connor was aching to offer. But he shouldn't have been worried; as soon as Dean crawled under the covers, he clung to Connor and snuggled against his chest. Connor had held him as Dean's body shivered with his silent crying, and stayed awake long after his brother fell into exhausted sleep.

The sun peeked through the clouds again, highlighting the shadows under Dean's green eyes. Connor moved his hand to pat the kid's cheek, frowned, and touched Dean's face again with the back of his hand.

"Stay here," he said, and turned to go around the back of the car and up to the driver's side. He opened the door, ignoring the way Dad's eyebrows drew close together. "Gimme the keys."

"What the hell for?"

"Need to open the trunk."

"What'd ya lose in there?"

"I wanna get some ibuprofen from the med kit."

Dad's frown deepened. "He can damn well sit on those welts for a little while longer, Connor. We need to get-"

"He's been fucking sitting on them all day long and he's starting to spike a fever, so you fucking gimme the goddamned keys or Imma pick the fucking lock."

Dad was still frowning, but he removed the keys from the ignition and handed them over.

Connor popped up the trunk and started moving the duffles to get to the one that held the med kit, when Dad walked around him and over to where Dean was standing. Connor straightened up some and tilted so he could watch them around the raised lid of the trunk.

Dean saw Dad coming and his stance changed; he was almost at attention now. Dad stood before him and reached to touch his face.

"You feeling alright, kiddo?"

"Yes, sir," Dean wasn't meeting his eyes, just staring straight ahead.

Dad touched his forehead, his cheek, his temple. "You sure?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause a delay in schedule, sir."

Dad's frown returned. "You sure you're okay? What's wrong?"

All of a sudden, a wave of ice washed over Connor's body, making his knees weak and his heart leap and his stomach practically drop; his breath seemed to have been knocked out of him, as if somebody had punched him in the gut. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh, _fuck_ , Dad."

Dad looked over at him. "What?"

Connor could feel his voice trembling. "He thinks you're still mad at him. Fuck, Dad, he thinks you've been mad at him _all fucking day_."

Dad stared at him, eyes going big and round, and then looked at Dean, who hadn't moved so much as a muscle. Dad reached to lift Dean's face up, very gently.

"Is that true?" His voice was equally gentle. "You didn't think you were forgiven?"

"You never said," Dean's voice was barely above a whisper. He was blinking faster, but Connor didn't think it was the sun that was stinging his eyes.

Dad let out a breath, soft and quivering, and the next minute his arms were around Dean, hugging him tightly to his chest.

"I'm sorry," he had his mouth against Dean's head and his words were muffled, but not so much that Connor couldn't hear them. "I'm so sorry, Dean. Of course you're forgiven. You're always forgiven, son, always."

Dean's hands grabbed at Dad's coat, and his shoulders were trembling again. He ducked his head a little, nestling it in the crook of Dad's neck, and Dad lifted a hand to cradle the back of Dean's head, fingers sinking into his short hair.

Connor stood motionless and silent. There was no way he would disturb this scene, no way, no how. He waited until Dad and Dean pulled away and Dad cupped Dean's face and smiled down at him.

"You wanna get that ibuprofen or what?" Dad was doing that thing where he was looking at one son and talking to the other with each of them knowing exactly what's what.

"Yes, sir," Connor spotted the med kit, fished the bottle out and uncapped it as he walked around the back of the car. Dad took it from him, shook out a couple of pills and handed them to Dean.

While Dad as getting Dean a water bottle, Connor went around the car again and opened the back door. "Take shotgun, Sammy."

"Really?" His baby brother's hazel eyes were studying him in a way that made Connor smile.

"Really. Scoot."

Sam climbed out and Connor took his place behind the driver's seat. A moment later, Dean opened the other door and peered inside. Connor motioned him and Dean carefully slid in, about to settle back in his seat, but Connor tugged at him to make him lie down.

Dean didn't, though. He glanced at Dad, who had bent a little to peek into the car.

"Lie down, Dean," Dad said, and Connor felt the last ounce of resistance drain away from his brother as he lay down on his side with his head on Connor's lap and drew his knees up, both to fit into the bench and to peel his sore bottom away from the backrest.

Connor stroked Dean's hair and then let his hand rest on his shoulder. Dad had climbed back into his seat in the meantime, started the car and eased it back on the road. For a few minutes they rode in silence, and then Dean spoke up.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we have some music?"

Dad reached to turn the cassette player on, and the after a few seconds of static, Pink Floyd strummed the first notes out of the loudspeakers.

_So, so you think you can tell_

_Heaven from hell_

Dean didn't have to forgive Dad for leaving him hanging after his punishment. Dean was never mad at him in the first place. Dad had said he was sorry, and it was good enough for Dean.

_Did they get you to trade_

_Your heroes for ghosts_

It wasn't enough for Connor, not by a long shot. He stared at the back of Dad's neck, his insides still bubbling with anger. Dean didn't deserve to pass this long day feeling like crap. He deserved a little better than a hug and a mumbled apology.

_Running over the same old ground_

_And how we found_

_The same old fears_

Connor looked down at his brother to see Dean had closed his eyes. The sun was low enough now that the front backrest left him in relative shadow, but there was no doubt that the strain Connor had noticed about him before was gone.

Connor squeezed Dean's shoulder, so lightly and gently the kid didn't even seem to notice, and then gave it a tiny rub and settled a little more comfortably in his seat. The music was streaming around him, patting his ears with invisible velvet. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_Wish you were here_

He would let it go, because that was what Dean wanted, that was what Dean needed him to do. But he would stand watch, oh, yes, he would; he would keep his little brother safe. That was what he was there for.

**Author's Note:**

> Like my works? Want to subscribe and get updates on new stories? Make sure you subscribe to the **user** and not the specific work!


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